Chapter 2
I had learned that from two years of managing his calendar.
“Then why does she think they wanted me there?”
Marco exhaled.
“You've become something of a family legend.”
I stared.
“What?”
“Do you remember the Christmas Eve meeting two years ago?”
Unfortunately, yes.
Marco had kept half his executive team working until nearly eight because a property deal was collapsing. I had finally marched into his office and informed him that unless a building was actively on fire, everyone was going home.
The room had become so silent that I could hear someone's watch ticking.
Marco had looked at me for ten seconds.
Then he had said, “Fine.”
His executives had treated me like a folk hero afterward.
“What does that have to do with your family?”
“My cousin Matteo was in the room.”
I closed my eyes.
“He told them.”
“He tells everyone everything.”
“So your mother knows me because I sent you home on Christmas Eve?”
“That and other things.”
“What other things?”
Marco walked into his office.
I followed.
“Marco.”
He turned.
“I mention you sometimes.”
Every coherent thought disappeared.
“You mention me.”
“Yes.”
“To your family.”
“Occasionally.”
“What does occasionally mean?”
His eyes moved to a folder on his desk.
“Enough that they know who you are.”
A tiny, foolish hope opened inside me.
I hated it immediately.
“What do you tell them?”
He looked at me.
“That you keep me from forgetting appointments.”
“That sounds romantic.”
“That you stop me from scheduling meetings during my mother's birthday.”
“I'm practically Juliet.”
“That you know when I'm angry before I do.”
My smile faded.
Marco did not.
“And that you are the only person in this building who tells me when I'm wrong.”
The office felt unexpectedly small.
I swallowed.
“That happens often.”
“Constantly.”
“You're welcome.”
“I haven't thanked you.”
“You should.”
His gaze stayed on mine.
“I probably should.”
Someone knocked on the open door.
We separated emotionally before either of us moved physically.
Antonio entered carrying two coffees.
Marco's longtime driver was in his late fifties, silver-haired and so discreet he could have been employed by diplomats. I'd always liked him.
He looked from Marco to me.
Then he handed me the coffee with a faint smile.
“Congratulations.”
I froze.
Marco said, “Antonio.”
“What?” Antonio asked innocently.
“There is nothing to congratulate.”
Antonio nodded.
“Then I withdraw my congratulations.”
He walked out.
I looked at Marco.
“How many people know?”
“Know what?”
“That we're pretending to date.”
“Only Antonio.”
“And your family thinks we're really dating?”
“Yes.”
“And the office?”
“No.”
As if summoned by fate, my coworker Rachel appeared outside the glass wall holding a stack of contracts.
She looked at me.
Then Marco.
Then the two coffees.
Then back at me.
Her eyebrows rose so high they almost vanished into her bangs.
I sighed.
“That's going well.”
The week should have been unbearable.
Instead, it became strangely ordinary.
Marco and I practiced details between meetings.
Our supposed first date was a small Italian restaurant downtown, because choosing one of his own restaurants would have seemed absurd.
We had supposedly been seeing each other for four months.
Quietly.
We agreed that he had asked me out first.
“Your family will believe that?” I asked.
“My family will believe I had to ask more than once.”
“Smart people.”
We decided there had been no dramatic declaration.
No sweeping romance.
Just dinner.
Then another dinner.
Then enough evenings together that eventually the distinction between work and something more had blurred.
It was disturbingly easy to invent because it sounded exactly like something I had once imagined.
On Wednesday evening, after everyone else left, Marco sat across from my desk.
“What does your father do?”
I looked up.
“You know what my father does.”
“He repaired buses.”
“Before he retired.”
“And your mother's still at the library?”
“Yes.”
He nodded, making notes.
I stared.
“What are you doing?”
“Learning.”
“You've met my parents.”
“Once. At the company Christmas party.”
“You remembered what they do.”
Marco looked confused.
“Of course.”
I shouldn't have found that meaningful.
I did.
“Favorite food?” he asked.
“Mine?”
“Yes.”
“You've ordered my lunch for me by accident at least four times. You should know.”
“Chicken piccata.”
I stared.
“Favorite movie?”
“Roman Holiday.”
“Favorite flower?”
I stopped smiling.
He answered anyway.
“Peonies.”
The room became very quiet.
“How do you know that?”
He closed the notebook.
“You had them on your desk once.”
“Two years ago.”
“I remember.”
There it was again.
That dangerous little possibility.
I pushed it away.
“What about you?”
“You know everything about me.”
“I know your schedule. Your business. Your coffee order. What time you call your mother on Sundays.”
“Exactly.”
“No. Not exactly.”
I leaned back.
“Favorite movie?”
Marco hesitated.
“It's a Wonderful Life.”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
His expression became offended.
“You asked.”
“Manhattan's terrifying Marco Ricci cries at It's a Wonderful Life?”
“I didn't say I cry.”
“You didn't have to.”
He pointed at me.
“That does not leave this room.”
“I'll put it in the confidentiality agreement.”
His face softened.
For the first time, I wondered how much of Marco's reputation was something he used because it was easier than correcting people.
Friday arrived too soon.
Antonio drove us east in a black SUV beneath a sky streaked with late-summer clouds.
Marco spent the first forty minutes answering emails.
I spent them watching his reflection in the window.
When he finally put his phone away, he looked at me.
“Nervous?”
“No.”
“You've rearranged your seat belt three times.”
“I like symmetry.”
“You're nervous.”
“So are you.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“I am never nervous.”
“You've checked your watch nine times.”
“It tells time.”
“So does the dashboard.”
Marco looked at the dashboard as though it had betrayed him.
I smiled.
He didn't.
“Emily.”
“Yes?”
“When we get there, my mother will probably hug you.”
“I've prepared.”
“My sisters will ask invasive questions.”
“I have sisters emotionally.”
“You're an only child.”
“I have Rachel.”
That earned a laugh.
Then he became serious.
May you like
“If anything becomes uncomfortable, tell me.”
“I can handle your family.”
